


Just a game

by hands0me_rhys



Series: Drake [1]
Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Oral Sex, Past Underage Sex, Sibling Incest, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 20:16:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8259277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hands0me_rhys/pseuds/hands0me_rhys
Summary: "Here." Sam is the first to initiate, and Nathan downs half the bottle before he's ready to respond.





	

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: In no way do I condone underage and/or incestuous relationships. I do not, under any circumstance, think it justifiable for a teenager to be intimately involved with a grown adult. There is a bold line between fictional and reality. This is a fictional work. These characters do not exist in the real world. I do not wish to offend or harm anyone mentally or physically, and feel that it must be brought to attention as to not hurt anyone or indirectly cause ill intent. You have been advised.

His heels hit softly against the roof, legs dangling as they sit on the ledge. Nathan's face was flushed from the chill, sitting there, his brother muttering fondly about something or the other. He'd been released from prison again, a few-month sentence after being caught doing something dumb. Nate couldn't remember what it was. Sam had done enough wrongs to make a right. Though, it wasn't like Nathan was completely pure, either.

"Little brother?"

His head darted up, and he parted his lips. "Huh?" Sam snorted at the belated reaction, and his elbow nudged against Nathan's side. "You should be listening, brat. Little out of it today, huh?" The older boy, lest he say man, raised something from the clutch of his palm, covered in a little brown bag. Nate knew what it was as soon as the smell filled his nose, heavy and sharp. "Here." Sam is the first to initiate, and Nathan downs half the bottle before he's ready to respond.

This is what his older brother does. He plays the cycle— the game. He leaves for six months, without a word, and a fifteen year old boy was left all on his own while his twenty-something brother was held up on vandalism charges. Sam doesn't say a goddamn thing until he gets out, soon after attempting to mend the seams. Nathan, stubborn as he may be and sleeping in an abandoned building for the duration of his brother’s absence, welcomed him with open arms. He's not a perfect guardian. Nate convinced himself he can do it on his own, can live by himself. That was until he _nearly_ got himself killed stealing from the old dude and his partner, what's-her-face. His face still stung from the slap, but at least Victor wasn't on his ass anymore. Just.. concerned, which was something Nathan wasn't familiar with. 

"I haven't seen you in months." Nate responded, the words unnecessarily bitter. Samuel pursed his lips. The younger Drake avoided making eye-contact, his eyelashes down-casted and his head bowed. "I'm sorry." Nate knew what this was about. He knew what was bothering Sam. It was Sullivan, meeting him, learning that Nathan had a life that  _didn't_ revolve around his older brother.

Nathan didn't accept the apology, and Sam sighed, reaching to take the bottle."I just don't trust him. He's a con-man, Nathan. People like that hanging around kids like you—" Nathan interrupts him, teeth grinding and his eyes moving to glare up at his brother. "What does that make us, Sam?  _You?_ You weren't there." The younger of the two distanced himself, his arms moving in on himself to avoid touching. His head is fuzzy, blank, static filling his ears.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, and sat the bottle down. It clanked on the asphalt. 

"I'm trying to look out for you. Don't you _get_ that?" The older Drake, Nathan knew, was getting frustrated. His eyebrows furrowed, his muscles tensed, and Nate could see the outline of his throat bobbing as he swallowed. "I.. I know that," Nathan lost his voice for only a moment. Sam slouched, his palm propping up his head. ".. but dictating my life when you chose to be in it isn't  _helping_ me, Sam." The shock of what he, _himself_ , had said is what initially made Nate stutter into silence. 

A rough hand slapped over the back of his neck, and he's jerked to face his brother. There's lips over his own, and Nathan swallowed the tongue darting past his lips, his teeth biting down on the warm organ invading his mouth. Sam hissed frustratingly, and the sharp taste is familiar in his mouth. Nate's eyes rolled to the back of his head when finger nails dug into the nape of his neck. He couldn't breathe, his nostrils flaring, palms jerking to grab fistfuls of brown hair. His fingers tugged abruptly, and Sam responding with a moan seeping through the suffocating kiss.

This is how the game is played. Sam pretends it didn't happen. He tries to show that he's sorry, but really, he isn't. He plays nice. He shows mercy.

That part is over.

This is rough, fast, and mean. The kind that made Nathan drool, the rare moments where Sam gave him what he wanted as a selfish boy, indulged in Nathan's neediness after he's been gone for  _too_ long. "Please— Pl—" Sam pulled away. All the noise is coming from Nate, pleading, panting, his fingers clinging onto his brother's hip, trying to pull him closer, to find warmth where there was none.

Sam's palms move to be placed over his cheeks, tilting his head, and there's more. It's filthy, messy, and Nathan's lips are wet and swollen, but he doesn't care, his tongue lapping soundly over the older Drake's mouth, looking for anything his teeth could nip against, and Sam's laugh is guttural, but warm. _So very warm_.

It took him little time to register that they were moving, falling back onto the terrace, and Sam crawls over him, his palms caging him in, teeth bruising his younger brother's jaw and neck. Nathan is soundly, soft noises arising, his legs untangling to wrap around Sam's waist, yanking him closer, the bulge overshadowed by denim leaving him to rut, spittle building at the back of his throat when his brother's fingers are quick work of his zipper, and he's pushing his two layers down to his thighs, pushing his shirt up and kissing down his abdomen.

Nathan is a babbling mess, hand wrapping over the hair he'd been so delighted to muss up, tugging harshly when Sam sneered against his naval. "Is this what you want, little brother? Want me to fuck you silly, your _cock_ down my throat and my hands _all_ over you?" Nathan couldn't hear anymore over his own pleasure, his own static, the ringing in his ears. " _Answer_ me." The older Drake commanded, and Nathan's stomach dipped when a tongue lapped against the flesh beneath his belly.

" _Yes,_ holy— fuck. Please, Sammy." Nate squeezed his eyes shut, until Sam's mouth is over his cock, and Nathan couldn't keep the whines from leaving him, the soft whimpering, and then finally, the moans.

It's pitiful, the way his legs are attempting to curl in on themselves. Sam is pushing his legs apart, yanking his jeans down to his ankles, and engulfing him within two licks. It's embarrassing, when Nathan's skin hits the November air, and he's freezing, but his face is hot and his fingers tingle. His stomach tightens, and it's bliss, when he's lost in the white of his eyes. Sam swallowed everything, pulling him closer with harsh fingers holding open his thighs, over-stimulating him until Nate was a bawling mess. There's gross tears smearing over his face, because Sam is done and he might  _leave_ again.

"No tears, baby boy. C'mon, please. You don't want to watch me cry, do you?" Sam's voice was soft in that instant, genuine, teasing, and he's slowly enveloping Nathan. Pushing his pants up, wrapping arms around his back, and Nathan is putty in his arms, burrowing his red face in his chest. "Maybe." He muttered, and he could feel Sam's grin as he pressed firmly in the curls of his younger brother's hair. "Don't test me, _Natalie_." The name, an assault to his ego, didn’t deter Nathan as he tightened his grip around his brother's back. Sam just kisses against his scalp.

"Don't leave." The younger mutters airly, and the older Drake hums. "You're stuck with me."

Nathan knew he was lying. He knew the game would repeat in a few months, or in a few weeks. His chest hurt, but not from relief; from fear.

 


End file.
